


It was meant to be me

by Of_Swords_and_Crowns



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, No Happy Ending Fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:14:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26420050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Of_Swords_and_Crowns/pseuds/Of_Swords_and_Crowns
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

Oxenfurt was bustling with new students. Many stared openly at the Witcher, wondering if he was the one from the stories and ballads. Dressed in studded black leather and carrying two swords on his back, the Witcher stood out among the brightly coloured doublets and robes. 

“The White Wolf!” Some spoke with almost reverence. “It’s him!” Geralt smiled, it seemed like Jaskier was telling the new students about him again. It made a nice change from the insults usually hurled his way.

It wasn’t long before Geralt found him. Jaskier was with some of his professor friends but his eyes lit up when he spotted Geralt. 

“Would you please excuse me friends? My husband is here.” Jaskier sauntered over to Geralt and, in front of the growing crowd, kissed him. 

“Was that really necessary?” Geralt asked as they finally pulled apart. 

“Of course. Everyone has to know that you’re mine. We can’t have some other bard putting the moves on you.” Jaskier smiled sweetly at Geralt as they tried to find a place away from prying eyes. 

“Jaskier, this isn’t exactly a social visit.” Geralt managed to sputter out as Jaskier was making up for lost time.

Jaskier pouted. “Fine. What is the reason for you coming all the way to Oxenfurt?”

“I thought I would come by before I took on this next contract. There’s rumours of a bruxa in a town not far from here.”

Jaskier nodded. “You’ll be back in a couple of days then?”

Geralt smiled and kissed Jaskier. “I’ll be back before you even miss me.”

***

“Jaskier,” Geralt thought as he fought the monster. “What was he doing here?” Without hesitation, without thought, Geralt surged towards him. Realising too late that it was an illusion. His, no its eyes weren’t the right shade of blue and its smile was a little too sharp. Bruxa didn’t usually take on the appearance of people but it wasn’t uncommon, why wasn’t Geralt prepared? Judging by the pile of bodies, the bruxa had fed recently. “Their song. Of course they decided to use Jaskier against me.” The contract only said there was one but instead they threatened to overwhelm him by sheer force of numbers.

“Sentimental witcher.” It drawled. “Should be more careful.”

Geralt ignored the pain in his shoulder as he continued to fight. But every one he killed, three more surged to take its place. The creatures let out a piercing scream and he barely managed to 

cast Quen before the blast sent him flying. He barely registered claws raking down his back before he lashed out with his silver sword. 

Geralt wasn’t sure how long he fought but there was a growing pile of bruxa bodies at his feet. Three bruxa stalked forward and Geralt scrambled for a swallow potion. He was unprepared for their scream which sent the potion shattering to the ground. He stumbled back and fell to his knees.

The pain was proving unbearable but as Geralt lay there covered in blood and watching the creatures approach, he thought of his family. Of Ciri all grown up and adventuring far way. Of his brothers, Lambert and Eskel, his best friends. Of Triss and Yennifer. But most of all he thought of Jaskier. His cornflower blue eyes. His smile that light up a room. His laugh and his voice as he would lie in Geralt’s arms while they sat under the stars. Of his feral bard when someone insulted Witchers or when Valdo Marx was around. Of his terrible pick-up lines. Of the songs he would sing when they were alone. Of the way he made Geralt fall in love. As the world darkened and his end came, Geralt’s last thoughts were of the bard that meant everything to him. His world. “May we meet again, in another life, in another world, dear heart.” He thought as he died. 

***

Jaskier had prepared Geralt for the day he would die. He ordered Geralt to live, to spread his art and music to all that would listen, to save the innocent and to fight the monsters. Jaskier was meant to die first so he wasn’t prepared when Lambert and Eskel politely knocked at his door in the midst of one of his lectures. Their faces were sombre and Jaskier tried not to fear the worst. He excused himself and closed the door behind him and his brain ran through scenarios. 

“What if it’s Ciri? We haven’t heard from her in a while.” Jaskier thought. “Or Yennifer? No, they wouldn’t come all the way out here for Yennifer.” 

“Jaskier. We’re sorry. We heard but we didn’t…” Lambert broke off and refused to meet Jaskier’s eyes. 

“What is it? It’s not Ciri is it?” Jaskier was worried.

Eskel shock his head. “No, it’s not Ciri.” He handed Jaskier a small medallion. “I’m sorry.”

Then Jaskier knew. In his hands laid a wolf medallion. Geralt’s wolf medallion. “No! No! It was a simple bruxa contract.”

“The villagers were mistaken. It was a hoard of bruxa. Geralt was overwhelmed. There wasn’t much left of him save for the medallion.” Lambert’s voice was quiet as if he almost didn’t want to tell Jaskier. 

Jaskier always knew Geralt would be the death of him. It wasn’t fair how much he loved him. Somewhere along the way Jaskier knew there would only be Geralt. The Witcher stole his 

heart and now he had broken it. Jaskier was meant to die first not the great Geralt of Rivea. Not his white wolf. The news finally seemed to sink in and Jaskier broke.

***

A part of Jaskier wanted to curl into a ball and pray that this wasn’t real, that this was a dream. Eskel and Lambert stayed for a bit, unsure what to say. They attempted to tell tales of Geralt’s life, of the pranks they would play as children. That is until Jaskier snapped. He didn’t want to hear about Geralt’s good life, he wanted to scream, to cry and maybe throw things at the wall. 

“Are you ok?” Lambert asked, laying a hand on Jaskier’s arm. 

Jaskier just laughed. “Am I ok? I just found out my husband is dead and you’re seriously asking me if I’m ok? Just leave me.” He sank in front of the fire.

“I don’t think you should be alone right now.” Eskel said as he joined Jaskier. 

“Well, I didn’t ask for your opinion. Just give me a minute. Give me two damn minutes and I’ll be fine. Is that too much to ask for?” He stared into the flames and heard the door close behind them. 

It was then Jaskier let the tears fall. He wanted to curse Geralt, not just for dying but for making him fall in love. “Give me back my heart, you wingless thing.” Jaskier muttered as he stared at the wolf medallion resting in his hand. But as he sat in front of the fire, the medallion sparked to life and Geralt’s last moments played before him. 

Three bruxa stalked forward and he,…no Geralt, scrambled for a swallow potion. Geralt was unprepared for their scream which sent the potion shattering to the ground. He stumbled back and fell to his knees. Jaskier watched in horror and the bruxa prepared to finish him off. A tear slid down his face as he watched Geralt’s last thoughts. Geralt thought of family. Firstly of Ciri, the daughter he didn’t ask for but raised and trained. Of his brothers, who had been through many mishaps together. Of Triss and Yennifer, the women he once loved. But his last thoughts were of Jaskier. His cornflower blue eyes. His smile that light up a room. His laugh and his voice as he would lie in Geralt’s arms while they sat under the stars. Of the pranks played on Valdo Marx that summer at Oxenfurt. Jaskier clutched the medallion as he sung. A song filled with grief and pain. Of love lost but also of revenge. “May we meet again, in another life, in another world, dear heart.” Jaskier echoed and the medallion went dark once again. 

Looping the chain around his neck, Jaskier rose from his heap on the floor. Straightening his shoulders, he went off in hunt of Eskel and Lambert. The winding hallways and corridors were mercifully empty. “Good.” Jaskier thought. “I don’t want to hear their pretend sympathies.” He found the Witcher’s in the tavern, drinking in the corner while some bard butchered Jaskier’s ballads. Had it been any other night, Jaskier would have walked over and given the bard some advice or a piece of his mind before taking over. But this wasn’t like any other night. 

Jaskier sat down next to Lambert. “I’m in.”

The brothers exchanged twin looks of confusion before turning to Jaskier. “You’re in what?”

“I’m assuming the creatures aren’t dead. So you’re planning on finishing the contract, right? I’m coming with.” Jaskier raised a hand before they could complain. “I travelled with Geralt for decades, I know what I’m getting into and I know how to wield a sword and yes I do have a silver one.”

Eskel shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.”

Jaskier smirked and candlelight danced in his eyes. “I’m going no matter what. So either you come with me or I’ll go alone. Anyway, I have Roach.” Eskel and Lambert exchanged a look and begrudgingly agreed.

Jaskier took a look around the room. A small part of him, wanted to say farewell to a few colleagues but he didn’t consider any of them true friends so he opted for a friendly wave as exited the tavern. Dawn was approaching on the horizon as the Witchers and the Bard left Oxenfurt. 

Jaskier turned to take one last look at the place. He considered it his home for many years. It was the place where he met Valdo Marx and thus began their rivalry. He and Geralt spent several summers here and Jaskier spent them playing to the masses or pranking Valdo or just being with Geralt. With a sigh he turned to follow the Witchers. Despite what Eskel and Lambert thought, Jaskier knew. He knew that he wasn’t returning home with them. “The bard’s final journey.” Jaskier mused. “I hope someone makes a ballad of it.”


	2. Chapter 2

The trio was quiet. Quite an unusual feat for Jaskier, for he usually filled the morning air with song or his endless banter. Instead bird song was the only distraction from Jaskier’s thoughts. As the sun rose higher and the day brightened, Jaskier tried to enjoy the glorious weather. But maybe it was Jaskier’s impending doom or the loss of Geralt but even Roach was silent. 

“I’m not alright, you was supposed to be my light and keep me safe. How could you leave me, Geralt? How the fuck am I supposed to carry on without you here?” Jaskier cursed him, the medallion clutched in his hand and the swords that Geralt bought him by his side. They spent so long travelling together that it felt unnatural for him to be absent. 

They travelled for most have been several hours. Eskel and Lambert talked quietly between themselves, probably reminiscing about Geralt. Jaskier sometimes forgot that they lost someone too. With a sigh, Jaskier pulled up along them. 

“…time that Geralt got really drunk and cried because Jaskier wouldn’t sleep with him because he had a husband.” Lambert laughed at the memory but quickly descended into silence. Guilty for being happy when there was work to be done. 

Eskel nodded, a sad smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Or the time when we had that competition to see who could annoy Vesmir the fastest. I’m still sure that Geralt cheated somehow.”

Jaskier loved hearing the tales of their childhood. It was another side to Geralt that he never got to see. “Did we ever tell you of that time in a Tavern near Posada when Geralt got us thrown out? No… well the patrons didn’t appreciate my music and getting quite rowdy. When they couldn’t get a rise out of Geralt by calling him a monster (we needed the coin and I planned to kill them later), they moved onto insulting me and my music.”

“Even the Gods can’t help those that insult the great Jaskier and his music.” Eskel interrupted.

Jaskier glared but he continued despite the interruption. “Of course that annoyed Geralt so he moves to kill them. I try to be the better person and tell him to kill them with kindness and all that. He stops, thinks for a moment and then draws his sword. He didn’t kill them, just hacked off a few of their body parts. I remember him turning to me after and smiling. He named the sword Kindness you see.” The trio smiled at the sight that must have been. 

They could have spent hours reminiscing about days past but they had a job to do. Jaskier scribbled his new song down, his last song. He just hoped that whoever it was given to would do it justice. And hopefully not Valdo Marx, though the song would be heard far and wide. Unfortunately Valdo Marx being… well Valdo Marx would change Jaskier’s song and then it wouldn’t be his song.

“The nest is a couple of minutes up the road.” Lambert cleared his throat. 

“We’ll go ahead and you stay back.” Eskel turned to Jaskier and made to dismount.

Jaskier shook his head. “I’m not staying behind. They killed Geralt and I’m not staying behind. I’m not.” He clutched the medallion in a death grip, the pain barely registering. 

Eskel and Lambert exchanged a silent conversation. Jaskier dismounted and tied Roach to a nearby tree. Pulling an apple from his saddlebags, Jaskier said his goodbyes to Roach. 

“Goodbye good girl. Remind Eskel and Lambert to always carry sugar cubes. Thank you for everything. I’m gonna miss you.” Jaskier stroked Roach and readied his swords. Jaskier always hated goodbyes and this was no different. 

“Fine but stay behind us, okay? We’re not losing anyone else today.” Lambert eventually answered, but still looking uneasy. 

Even though the sun was high in the sky, Bruxa was one several vampire breeds immune to the sun. Jaskier wondered, not for the first time, how many Bruxa there would be, how many did it take to take away his Geralt. As the group advanced towards the nest, the Bruxa’s song floated to them on the breeze. 

Jaskier grimaced at the shrill and sickening tune. “Terrible singing. Still better than Valdo Marx though.” His attempt to lighten the mood summoned an almost smile on the Witcher’s face but soon they were determined. It was time. 

Eskel held out a pair of ear plugs to Jaskier. “Their song can manipulate you, bend you to their will. Turn your dreams into nightmares.” 

Jaskier nodded his thanks. And soon the sounds of the forest vanished. It was unnerving to hear nothing. To have the sounds that accompanied him and Geralt on many adventures simply vanish. 

Hidden in the shade of the forest, they had the advantage of surprise. Five Bruxa sat in the middle of the glade, no doubt singing to captivate some poor soul to be their lover and food. A dilapidated and derelict tomb covered in overgrown plants of various species, the last remnants of something grander, which Jaskier assumed to be their shelter. 

At Lambert’s signal the group burst out into the glade, silver swords drawn. In unison, Eskel and Lambert cast Yrden, trapping several Bruxa. Jaskier advanced and with a single swipe of his sword decapitated those trapped. The remaining three must have let out a piecing scream for Eskel and Lambert cast Quen. Seeing Jaskier unaffected had them advancing on him.

Lambert and Eskel were keeping kept busy by reinforcements from the tomb. It seemed like Jaskier was on his own. Every lesson taught to him by Geralt, Lambert, Ciri, Eskel and Vesmir ran through his mind. Every piece of Lore on the Bruxa, everything Geralt told him. Jaskier recalled it all.

The Bruxa charged in, claws outstretched. Jaskier barely managed to parry a few of their 

incoming blows but the sharp pain in his left arm told him at least hit their mark. He sidestepped another incoming attack and landed a lucky strike to the Bruxa. With a howl she collapsed to the floor, dead. 

No time for a victory lap. A quick glance over at Eskel and Lambert found that they were handling things quite well. Jaskier quickly turned his attention to his last Bruxa. With a few of Geralt’s favourite moves, Jaskier dispatched her. 

A small part of him told him that something was off. He was forgetting something. Jaskier shrugged. “Maybe I left my cat on the stove or something.” Finally, he could remove the earplugs and he savoured the sounds of the forest once more. 

“Jaskier. Look out.” A shout made him turn. He wasn’t sure which Witcher shouted. Sharp claws racked down his back. Jaskier fell to his knees, silver sword falling to the ground beside him. Unimaginable pain burned Jaskier. He couldn’t breathe. He attempted to reach his sword but the Bruxa held him in place. 

Jaskier knew he was going to die. Either from his wounds or the Bruxa in front of him. As his vision blurred, he saw… Lambert kill the Bruxa. An explosion, possibly from the direction of the tomb, meant that the nest was destroyed. They finished the contract. They avenged Geralt. 

“Jaskier. Stay with me. We can get a healer. It’s going to be okay.” Lambert sputtered. He wasn’t ready to lose another friend. 

“Lambert, it’s too late.” Eskel spoke in hushed tones. “It’s okay Jaskier. It’s time to rest. You did good.” Eskel tried to keep the pain from his voice. 

“Did… did we get them all?” Jaskier managed to speak.

“Yeah we did. You got them all Jaskier.”

Jaskier smiled. “Make sure you carry sugar cubes for Roach. She really loves them. And there’s a song that I wrote. Make sure you give it to someone good.” Strangely enough, Jaskier couldn’t feel the pain anymore. He kinda felt numb. 

“We’ll do it Jaskier. Don’t worry. You just rest.” Eskel reassured him as he held his hand. 

“Rest sounds good.” Jaskier looked up at the sky. The cloudless blue sky through the canopy of trees. His life flashed before him. 

Studying at Oxenfurt before going out on the road. A blur of taverns and songs, all before that one day in Posada. Jaskier knew from the first moment that he saw Geralt brooding in a corner that he was an adventure. He didn’t know then that Geralt would be home, family and his everything. Sure they had problems. Namely Yennefer and that whole dragon hunt issue. But Jaskier liked to think they had destiny on their side. 

Jaskier thought back to their first meeting. “You, sir, smell of death and destiny. Heroics and 

heartbreak.” He was right. But Jaskier wouldn’t trade it for the world. Life was never boring when he was in the company of the Witcher’s. 

As he breathed his last surrounded by brothers, Jaskier looked forward to a new adventure. To seeing Geralt again. And then the great bard Julian Alfred Pankratz, Jaskier, died. Without fanfare. Without a song. But he died with heroics. He died doing the business of Witchers. Wherever he would go now, the brothers hoped he would be with Geralt.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did write an alternate version for this chapter so if any of you are interested, I could post that one as well. Let me know!

The sky was darkening with the promise of rain. The only sound was the horses on the dirt road. Eskel and Lambert rode in silence, struggling to cope with another loss. Vesmir only died a few months ago, then Geralt and now Jaskier. Roach walked beside them, carrying the body of their dear friend. 

Before long they reached the town that posted the contract and collected the money offered. The problem was solved but it cost too much. The road to Kaer Morhen was hard and several days travelling but they made a promise to Jaskier. A promise they intended to keep.

The Tavern was partially empty, not a good sign, and the Witcher’s took a table in the corner. Away from prying eyes and anyone wanting to pick a fight. 

“How would we know if they are good enough?” Eskel worried.

Lambert surveyed the crowd and shrugged. “We’ll know.”

And so they waited. It seemed like they would have to spend the night when a bard dressed in flamboyant and outrageous colours sauntered in. They shared an identical look. This could be the one. The bard smiled to the crowd as he pulled out his lute. The opening notes of Toss A Coin filled the dingy Tavern. 

Groans from several patrons while others instantly lightened. Toss a coin did always have mixed reactions. Just wait until you play it eight times in a row. Easy way to get a bloodthirsty crowd. 

The bard wasn’t terrible but was he good enough for Jaskier?

By the time the bard had finished several songs, Eskel and Lambert knew. This bard was the right one. They handed Jaskier’s song to him. 

“This is the last song that Jaskier will ever write. Sing it everywhere you go.” Eskel spoke with a sad smile. 

“And you’re just giving to me?” The bard cautiously took the papers. 

“He wanted us to give it to someone worthy.” Lambert shrugged. 

“I’ll try and do it justice. Thank you.” The bard smiled and started reading over Jaskier’s notes. 

With their promise fulfilled, the Witchers could make their way to Kaer Morhen. The sun was setting after a long day and the trek up the mountain was tough. They would need to send notice to Ciri and Yennifer in hopes they could meet them up at the Keep. 

They were going to need their friends around them, to remind them that they still have friends. Eskel and Lambert were going to have learn how to cope with their brother and the Keep was going to be more silent without the bard. But the Witcher’s have had their fair share of loss and 

heartbreak. It was a feeling they knew well. 

***

Snatches of moments. A cabin. The brisk autumn breeze. A fire roaring in the hearth. Standing on a cliff, the sea churning below. A woman, her face wreathed in shadows. Echoes of a melody, familiar but unknown. Unbearable pain. 

The cabin came into clearer focus and Geralt fought though the pain. The flames danced in the hearth. Casting shadows and patterns on the walls. 

“Jaskier.” He mumbled. “Have to get back to Jaskier.” He commanded his body to move but only managed to collapse to the floor in front of the fire. What had happened? Last thing he remembered he was fighting the Bruxa. 

“Not so fast.” A woman’s voice seemed to drift to him, like from a dream. “You lost a lot of blood. Rest now.”

“No. I have to get back to him.” Geralt tried to fight the dazing pain. He tried to get up.

“You’re no use to anyone if you bleed out. Jaskier can wait.” The woman’s voice sounded farther and farther away and he allowed himself to slip into a deep sleep. The fight going out of him and he welcomed the coming darkness.

***

Geralt was standing on the edge of a cliff. A place familiar to him. He knew that if he turned, there would be a small gathering of trees (barely worth calling a forest). That down the road was the summer estate of Jaskier’s family. A place they stayed at not long after they reunited after the mountain. 

That was the summer that Geralt told Jaskier how he felt. There was so much he wanted to say, he had no idea how to put it into words. He spent so long burying feelings that it took losing Jaskier to finally force him to confront those feelings.

Footsteps crunching in the grass behind him. Instincts kicked in and Geralt was ready to fight until he heard his voice. 

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice.

Geralt turned. Jaskier was here… wherever here was. Jaskier ran to him and the comforting scent of chamomile and oil to polish wood that he knew so well enveloped him. 

“Geralt. I can’t believe I lost you. It was always meant to be me. I wasn’t prepared to lose you.” Jaskier didn’t want to let go. He was reunited with his Witcher. 

“Jaskier. You didn’t lose me. I’m right here.” Geralt looked at Jaskier in confusion and noticed that his cornflower blue eyes seemed…greyer than usual.

“Geralt. You died. The Bruxa contract, remember. Eskel and Lambert gave me your medallion. It showed me your last moments.” Jaskier took a step backward and looked out to the water. “You died.” 

It was then he noticed that his colourful doublet was the hideous shade of grey. Like the colour was leached out of everything. But Geralt… his eyes still shone of amber. Geralt put the pieces together quicker. 

“Someone found me. I keep having these moments in a cabin somewhere. She saved me, a breath away from death.” As Geralt spoke these words, he realised something else. He felt stronger and as he did Jaskier’s colours faded more. 

“Jaskier. What happened?” Geralt was worried. He tried to pull him close but his hand simply passed through. The pain he felt then was worse than anything he ever felt before. 

“Geralt, I’m dead.” Tears threatened to spill over and Jaskier quickly brushed them away. In a rush of words he recounted everything. Everything from the moment that Eskel and Lambert arrived at his door. Geralt was quiet through the whole story but he blamed himself. For allowing the Bruxa to get the better of him. For not coming home to Jaskier as soon as he could.

“Geralt you need to fight. Fight for those who can’t fight for themselves. Fight to make the world a better place. Fight for me. For our family.”

“I can’t leave you Jaskier. I need you.” Geralt tried to hold him and for a brief moment he could before his hands passed through once more.

“We knew this was coming. It was always meant to be me.” Jaskier smiled through the tears and wished they could kiss just once more.

“Will you love me Geralt for the rest of my life?” Jaskier used to ask him. Hands intertwined. A brief moment of reprieve between contracts. Days stumbling into each other. Time seeming to stand still whenever they were together. 

“No.” Geralt smiled and kissed a stunned Jaskier. “I’ll love you for the rest of mine.” They echoed that promise now. Desperate for just one more moment but it wasn’t Geralt’s time. He needed to wake up. He needed to go. The world needed the white wolf. But the white wolf needed his bard. 

***

Geralt needed to get back to Kaer Morhen. He knew that the dream was real. He knew Jaskier was gone. He didn’t want to believe it but he knew. 

It was a long road to Kaer Morhen and Geralt needed a horse. He didn’t to take the one he borrowed from the healer any further. There’s a bard singing one of Jaskier’s songs. There’s a pain in his chest that cut deeper than any wound ever inflicted. Jaskier was dead and it was 

Geralt’s fault. 

He chooses a table in the corner and is surveying the crowd, looking for someone reliable when the bard changes song. The song is familiar, but the words were… wrong. The song felt like Jaskier, his sorrow and pain but…no. Choosing a table hidden in a corner, he listened. He listened to Jaskier’s last song. The pain and sorrow embedded in the words. 

When the last notes faded from the tavern, he walked over. 

“The song? Where did you hear it?” He wondered.

“Two Witchers came through here a couple of days ago. Gave me scraps of paper with this song on. Told me to sing it everywhere I went.” The bard replied. 

Geralt nodded his thanks and asked where he could buy a horse. And so the Witcher fled into the night, one with the darkness. But no matter how fast he rode to Kaer Morhen the whispers of the song still followed him. Haunting him, almost as much as those last moments. He rode to avoid his demons. He rode to avoid the voice that uttered it was his fault. But that song still followed. Whispers on the breeze. 

“The white wolf fought his very best but soon he was overcome,

The bard who followed him on his every quest, journeyed with him still.

Now Valdo Marx is the best for there is no competition, 

For the bard and his white wolf went on their final mission.”

***

Kaer Morhen Several days later

Geralt was tired. He had pushed the horse to its limits to make it to the Keep before the storm and he only barely made it. Sneaking Roach a couple of sugar cubes, Geralt prepared himself. The huge ornate door slammed shut behind Geralt, inviting the storm inside. 

The Keep was silent, devoid of music and laughter. The kind of quiet that used to haunt the keep in the months after losing one of their own and the years before Jaskier and Ciri. Geralt wasn’t used to this kind of quiet. Travelling with Jaskier meant endless humming, fragments of lyrics and a stream of questions. In the months after the mountain, Geralt talked to Roach in an attempt to fill the hole Jaskier left. But nothing worked. 

Geralt made his way through empty rooms and corridors to the common room. Eskel and Lambert sat in front of the fire, Jaskier’s lute and Geralt’s medallion by their side. Yennifer and Ciri had their arms wrapped around each other. 

“At least they’re together now. Wherever they are.” Ciri spoke into the silence. 

“Remember the first winter Jaskier spent with us?” Eskel offered. Smiles broke out. 

“I’ve never seen Geralt so happy. The food fights in the kitchen.” Lambert smiled through the tears.

“The inside jokes. I would never understand how meat soup could set them off like that.” Yennifer grinned at the memories.

“Or Jaskier fighting an entire tavern because they insulted his music.” Ciri sniffled. 

Geralt stepped in from the shadows. “Actually he pretended that he wasn’t bothered when they insulted him. Jaskier always said he was used to it, a lie hidden by his charms. Some people don’t appreciate the finer things, he would say. But whenever someone insulted Witchers… That’s what Jaskier would fight an entire tavern for.” He sunk to the floor beside Jaskier’s lute. The memories bittersweet. 

Eskel and Lambert were the first to react. Each stumbling over to their brother and holding on tight. Ciri flung herself in Geralt’s arms and Geralt breathed in the familiar smell of roses and blood. When they all finally broke apart, Yennifer was there. 

“Don’t ever do that to me again.” She whispered, the scent of lilac and gooseberries mixing with chamomile. She held on tight and, with a watery smile, sunk to the floor beside him.

“We did everything we could but… he didn’t make it.” Lambert started to explain but Geralt shook his head. 

“Jaskier explained everything. You did everything you could, I understand.” Geralt stared into the flames. The fire made the shadows on the wall dance. In times like this, Jaskier would play something. The music filling the room. Geralt thought about playing it now but he couldn’t play half as well as Jaskier. 

Yennifer talked of Jaskier. Of his music. Of his jokes. Lambert and Eskel talking of the Winter’s that he stayed with them. Ciri talking of his lessons that involved less teaching and more of Geralt’s and Jaskier’s adventures. Geralt didn’t talk. He stared into the dying fire and tried to stay afloat within the memories. He spent so long not feeling, that losing Jaskier threatened to break him. He opened his heart to a constant tune, no regard to his own life and overprotectiveness bard. 

Geralt wasn’t sure what would happen next but he knew he would need his family around him. He made a promise to Jaskier to fight for the people who couldn’t for themselves. A promise he intended to keep. But he knew wherever he went, whatever he would do, Jaskier would be with him. Geralt thought of the promise they made to each other. “I’ll love you for the rest of my life, dear heart.”


End file.
